


hello again, dear old friend

by a1hobi



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Annihilation (2018), M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 09:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a1hobi/pseuds/a1hobi
Summary: There was a sense of dread that had begun to creep in the back of his mind.The atmosphere had grown oppressive during the hike to the main camp, his memories still blurred, an after effect of the hypnosis induced to ensure safe passage across the border. Erik walked a couple of paces ahead of him, likely pulling back to remain close to him. Charles still could not pinpoint the reason behind Erik’s obvious tenderness for him.If any of the other team members noticed, no one bothered to comment on it.





	hello again, dear old friend

**Author's Note:**

> hello again, back before school starts and i disappear for eternity (or until the semester ends). i recently watched Annihilation by Alex Garland and read the book of the same name by Jeff Vandermeer. both are amazing and i highly recommend both. this was meant to be much darker but along the way i lost that beginning inkling to pursue terror and instead went down this mystery route. i probably got overly ambitious, please heed the warnings, if i missed any, please let me know and i will edit. enjoy!

There was a sense of dread that had begun to creep in the back of his mind.

The atmosphere had grown oppressive during the hike to the main camp, his memories still blurred, an after effect of the hypnosis induced to ensure safe passage across the border. Erik walked a couple of paces ahead of him, likely pulling back to remain close to him. Charles still could not pinpoint the reason behind Erik’s obvious tenderness for him.

If any of the other team members noticed, no one bothered to comment on it.

They had entered Area X earlier that same day, had been hiking through the marshy swampland, the heat bearing down on them – the humidity pressing their clothes to their skin, bathing them in sweat.

Their expedition was only the third to enter, the first had been made up entirely of military, tasked with collecting intelligence and mapping the grounds; the second had successfully begun and completed the infrastructure necessary for self-sustaining expeditions to continue research.

Their expedition was the first of these, meant to test how long humans could live within the confines of Area X. As Charles thought back, the word  _ last _ , rather than  _ live,  _ seemed more fitting.  

The team was made up of Charles, tasked with testing the biological makeup of the nearby wildlife; Logan, an Air Force pararescue, present to “take care of the kiddies,” as he put it; Hank, a civil engineer, brought on to the monitor the newly built infrastructure; and Erik, a physician and psychologist, his presence meant to ease their psychological transition into the new environment.

From previous expeditions, little change in the atmospheric environment could be detected. They’d been equipped with small sensors embedded into the breast pocket of their military issue fatigues, any danger would trigger a vibration, an alarm to notify them to seek new shelter. So far, carbon and oxygen levels remained like those outside the quarantined area, the only differing factor between the outside world and Area X present in the shimmering glow that engulfed it.

Its glow was incandescent, almost translucent to the naked eye. Charles observed it during a break, deduced that perhaps the sunlight’s refraction across its surface was what allowed them to see it in its swirls of color, almost like a massive, breathing soap bubble.

Area X itself merely spanned six miles in diameter, a semi-circle of land, its other half made up by the sea the border covered. From their position, as they neared the camp, the surroundings began to fade from a wooded, swamp-like marsh, to a clearing with tall grasses giving way to the forest left behind. To their left, a lake sat, still, its water dark and covered in a thin layer of blue-green algae with scatters of lilies drifting idly, it was a picture of wild serenity.

Charles was absolutely mesmerized.

\---

The team trailed for another hour, the sun high on the sky, mercilessly bearing down on them. Not much later, the camp came into his eye-line. There were two modern buildings, small, one-floor and uniform, a stark contrast to the classic home-like properties left behind from the citizens that previously existed here.

The previous two expeditions’ reports often referred to the structures as ruins of a long-extinct civilization, yet the Event that had brought about Area X had only occurred a year or so ago.  The structures standing now were depilated, but devoid of any significant destruction, nature beginning to creep the walls in the small scatters of green spongy moss and the thread-like vines – the ravaged buildings described in the reports a stark contrast to the steady ones Charles saw around him.

As the team traveled through the town they catalogued what they viewed with an air of awe. They had spent weeks preparing to enter; now present within Area X, a surreal sense washed over all of them. Logan walked at the front, ahead of everyone, a semiautomatic rifle held firmly against his chest, scouting for any potential threats. Erik walked just behind him, armed as well, flanking his left side. According to the briefings Charles had been supplied, Erik had some military experience to his name as well. He’d served as a medic through two tours in a war Charles could not recall, a jaded harshness following Erik wherever he went.  

Charles trailed just behind Erik while Hank walked a couple of steps behind Charles, armed with a handgun, his own rifle across his back. Charles had just now come to realize the jarring fact that he was the only unarmed member, chalked it up to his lack expertise, perhaps he had declined weapons training, his memories from before passing the border still fuzzy to him.

\---

Soon after clearing the surrounding area and ensuring its safety, they each went about setting up their rooms. The two buildings meant for them were twin mirrors of each other, set up side by side – their walls made of gray brick, unremarkable, featureless, lest the two windows framed by white plastic fixtures and the single wooden door at the front. The one to the left was meant to house them, four rooms in total; the building to the right meant as a miniature research facility, equal amount of rooms, different functions, same tired formalities.

Charles found these structures an omnipresent reminder of the human need to control, constricting in their uniformity, felt himself aching to escape, explore the woods and beyond. He kept these thoughts to himself. Part of the training pushed upon them stressed the need for constant teamwork, forbade separation, deemed it an unnecessary risk. Charles felt the distant impression of the directive’s influence, yet here, now, within Area X – he felt free, the leash around his neck loosened.  

They’d all had to undergo some form of conditioning. The Southern Reach considered it a minor stipulation, treated it as routine. Charles still felt unnerved by it, by the power Erik likely held – the whispers of curiosity driving him to near madness in their suggestions. He’d learn to tamper them down, or else he figured he did, at some point – he’d made it past the border after all.

“Do you need any help?” Erik asked Charles, stood at his door, breaking him out of his reverie. He’d been sitting on his bed, his back resting against the wall, in his hands the standard journal they’d each been issued.

Much to his chagrin, Charles came to realize that Erik had been charmed by him. Charles had some vague recollections of them together during training, remembered portions of his psychological evaluations with him. Remembered Erik’s reserved nature, always accompanied by a politeness bordering on compulsive, careful, yet vaguely desperate.

Erik was intriguing, a riddle Charles couldn’t quite figure out. He stood by the door, resting against the wall, sweating through his shirt with the beginning hints of stubble peppering his chin. His hair short, neat, an auburn shade that suited his intensely blue eyes – a familiar sense of deep history behind them that briefly alarmed him.

“No,” Charles decided, accompanied by a smile, “thank you, but I’m all done.” He lied. His pack laid beneath his bed, full to the brim. Distance here, within the border, felt necessary – essential.

Erik merely nodded, made his exit, hasty, trailed by a vague disappointment, walked away while calling back that lunch would be ready soon.

\---

“Finally gonna get some color on you bub?” Logan shot by way of prodding Charles to talk.

“Not any day soon,” Logan eyed him skeptically, “I’ll continue with my sunscreen and my baby bottom smooth skin, thank you very much.” Logan let out a bark of laughter.

The sun’s intensity had quelled into its late afternoon rays, well on its way to setting, a couple of gray, bulbous clouds beginning to form above them promising overnight showers. They sat around a campfire Hank had built, getting a chance to enjoy the cool reprieve of the sunset, an easy camaraderie building between them.

While at the Southern Reach’s headquarters they were mostly kept in isolation with as minimal exchanges between them as possible, most of these exchanges held in sterile, clinical rooms with the watchful eye of a camera always present. Here they could let their guards down, were encouraged to. Charles was reminded of Erik’s presence, his ties to the organization a looming reminder that they were, even here, still watching.

Nonetheless, Charles was fascinated by their stories. Logan and Hank providing ample material for future blackmail, both detailing their inspirations for volunteering to enter Area X. Logan was a thrill seeker, felt he needed a new challenge to defeat. Hank came for work, made the trek with the backing of a research grant.

Erik remained reserved, impassive, hints of nervous energy beneath his stilted conversation about his work for the Southern Reach – briefly warming while recalling a friend, said he “couldn’t wait to get back to him.”

There was love there, Charles deduced, the light in his eyes there one moment, gone the next.

The mood had grown somber by the time it came for Charles to share a story. He had tried and failed to reach the memories for an anecdote to lighten the mood.

He settled for making one up.

Charles began to spin it as it came to him, tales of a date gone wrong, how he had accidentally spilled a drink on his date – the lot of them began jeering at him, begged him for details on what happened next.

He didn’t know. He told them he took her home, apologized, and that he hadn’t heard from her since.

“And you wholly deserved that,” Logan said, accompanied it by clapping him in the back. Charles let out a hearty puff of air in response.

Hank was mostly still laughing.

Erik was smiling, Charles noticed as he looked across the fire towards him, noticed it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Charles decided Erik was entirely square, perhaps judging him from behind his rigid, cool control.

Not much later the rain began its wispy descent, by now the light had completely receded and they decided to retreat to their rooms.

Deep into the night, Charles woke and made his way to their kitchenette, pushed open the front window and let in the cooling breeze from the rain in, heard it softly raking itself along the tall grasses, the nearby trees, the crickets, the frogs – the sweet melody of the life here lulling Charles, centering him.

“Enjoying the night?”

Charles startled and bodily shook, the chair he was sitting on scraping across the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Erik soothingly said, “I didn’t mean to scare you,” smiled apologetically, a bubble of amusement in his tone.

Charles turned to look at Erik’s clandestine shape, darkened by the shadows of the room, the moonlight not quite reaching him where he stood, resting against the fridge, his back to the hallway that led to their rooms. His posture was relaxed, Charles noted, starkly different to the tightness he’d become familiar with throughout the day.

“You’re fine,” Charles waved him off, turned back towards the window.

“You like it here?”

“A bit.”

Erik snickered, his feet softly padding towards him. He stood opposite of Charles, the window between them, his eyes intently gazing at the night sky.

“They’re so much brighter here.”

Charles followed his gaze, became impressed by the scattering of light, vast and open, a multitude of shining stars staring down at him. In between them, he’d felt Erik too, stealing glances down at him, restless, searching. Enthralled in this tender moment, encased in Erik’s shadow, Charles felt a burning curiosity within him, an idea had come to him, an idea to try and untangle the mystery that Erik presented.

Charles turned his head to meet Erik’s gaze.

“They truly are.”

\---

Morning came, followed by a quick breakfast, the prospects of exploring creating a childish excitement among them.

They’d looked over the maps and decided to head East, trail alongside the beach first, eventually make their way in, back to the camp.

It was noon by the time they left, the heat quelled by the previous night’s rain. In exchange the humidity had intensified, its presence an unwelcome addition to their trek. The walk from the main camp to the shore took about an hour to cover, the swell of salty air enveloping them as they neared the shore.

In the distance, Charles could hear the waves, roaring from afar, could begin to see their massive undulations. Peaks and troughs, up and down they came crashing against the earth, the sand below shining like fine crystals, glistening brightly under the sunlight.

The tide had receded recently, leaving the grounds open to their exploration. Logan had suggested a perimeter, mostly influenced by his need to keep an eye on them. Erik, as their appointed leader, had merely shrugged, more in ambivalence than in approval, and so, with that, they had each set about their business.

Charles had walked a couple of feet away, toward the water, where the waves crashed against a wall, human-made, yet heavily eroded by the sea. Rocks sat at the bottom, massive mounds of compressed sediment in dull hues of orange and brown, a scattering of sickly yellows in between. Charles decided to climb them, slipped once or twice on his trek, finally was able to reach the midpoint, between where the climb was possible and where it became deadly. Looking down, within the crevices, he noticed small pools of water, tiny fish and shelled crabs wandered about, indifferent to Charles’ presence.

Charles was about to begin recording observations on his journal when a soft glint of light caught his peripheral.

He turned to follow its source and, in the distance, spotted a Lighthouse.

From afar, it appeared tall and imposing, its outer walls a blinding shade of white. A beacon, powerful in its attraction, called to Charles, begged him to reach it.

As he pushed himself up and set a course to explore it, he felt a vague pull, a sense to stop. He heard a faint voice trailing from behind him. Muffled, away, “ _ Charles _ ,” his name, “Charles!”

“Yes?” He responded back, the sweet song of the Lighthouse broken, its enchantment gone.

He turned back and saw Erik nearing him, calling his name out, an urgent fervor to his sprint. Logan and Hank trailed just behind him, albeit with much lesser speed.

“Charles!” Erik had reached the bottom of the edge between the where the sand met the rocks, out of breath, relief creeping in. “We’re supposed to stay as a unit!”

Charles knew. Couldn’t help but feel patronized by the statement.

“No unnecessary risks, remember!” Erik continued. Annoyance began to brew within Charles, the obvious coddling unnerving him.

Charles sat where he once stood, waited for Logan and Hank to arrive, Erik’s expression souring at Charles’ petulant silence.

“My apologies,” Charles addressed all three men, Logan and Hank now next to Erik, standing idly, a bored aloofness to them. “I didn’t mean to startle any of you but…”

“But what, bub?”

“There seems to be something missing from the maps.”

“What?” Hank startled, interest clearly peaked.

“A Lighthouse,” Charles turned his head East, pointed past the wall, beyond the rocks, “there, in the distance.”

\---

By the time the initial shock had worn off, they’d discussed their options and decided it was imperative to explore the Lighthouse. The trip meant as a sweep to ensure no threats would be present, Logan and Erik drawing their rifles, taking the lead towards the Lighthouse.

Once there, the blinding white of its walls appeared to dull the closer they got. The outer build appeared worn, a granite that had been smoothed by time, its texture sandy and rough, pebbled, like the skin of a shark. Charles spotted small, vine-like growths that began in the outer walls, made their way inside, almost through the wall, penetrating crevices invisible to him.

Within the Lighthouse, three rooms sat at the bottom, inconspicuous and empty, layers of accumulated dust plaguing all of them. Abandoned. Empty.

Against the left wall, a spiral staircase made of corroded metal began. Charles attempted to climb it, only to have the hinges squeal so violently that it was deemed unwise to explore the floor above. Charles could not help the burning curiosity that overcame him, endless questions running through his mind, absorbing him in the possibilities of what could be up there.

Much to his disdain, the rest of the team stopped looking an hour after they’d arrive, establishing the location as a new discovery, albeit a quite boring, unobtrusive one. Even Hank had burned through his initial excitement quickly, merely dated the building to the late 1800s, catalogued it and filed it away on his journal, unimpressed.

Charles felt an inkling of annoyance stirring at their collective indifference.

\---

The trek back to the camp passed by uneventfully, the highlight, perhaps, in the sparrows Charles found. Above them, a pair of them flew, almost following them. Their tune soft, the murmur of their wings flapping against the wind a welcome reprieve from the rather disappointing day.

As the last light of the day receded, and the pitch-black darkness of the night descended, Charles found the opportunity to seek the calming peace of the moonlight and went to sit by the window once everyone had retreated to their rooms.

Behind the pitter patter of a dragonfly Charles was observing he was able to pick the very human steps behind him.

“Eri–” a startled pause, “Hank?”

“Charles?”

“What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Hank said, a cold sweat obvious on his forehead. “You?”

“Same here,” Charles stood, pulled out a chair for Hank, offered him some water.

“No, thank you.” Hank began, waving his hand in a sheepish flurry, “I was actually going outside, I could use some fresh air.”

“Would you like me to go with you?”

“No.” Short, curt, polite. Hank’s features furrowed into a knot, a troubled frown beginning to form. “I’m sorry, I just need some space.”

“It’s fine,” Charles offered, “I’m here if you need anything.”

With that, Hank left, through the door and into the night. Charles felt an inkling that something was wrong but tampered it down, sat and settled back into the darkness.

A second pair of footsteps soon followed Hank’s hasty departure.

“Where did Hank go?” Erik walked up to Charles, worried expression across his face.

“Outside,” Charles supplied, “he’s near, don’t worry,” he added, Erik’s jaw loosening visibly.

“Where?”

“Here,” Charles pointed just outside the window. Hank stood by the extinguished campfire, pacing, a nervous tension in his posture. “He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know,” Erik said, “I worry, you know.” Erik stood next to the window, mirroring their encounter from the prior night, his expression grim.

“That’s good”

“What is?”

“That you worry,” he felt a bit sheepish at his wording but nonetheless trotted on, “I’m glad to be on this team,” Erik softened, “with you, thank you.”

Erik fully turned towards Charles now, openly looked at him, trailed his eyes across his face, Erik’s irises blown wide, little blue visible, dark pools raw and exposed, letting Charles in where he previously thought a door did not exist. A comfortable silence set over them, not much later they departed to their own rooms.

That night Charles dreamed, impressions of memories, wrapped in the warmth of Erik’s easy smile.

\---

Dawn had just begun to crack, the sun peeking tentatively over the horizon. Charles was beginning to wake, drowsy still when he heard just outside a blood-curdling scream.

_ Logan. _

He sprung from his bed, not bothering with shoes, ran outside, belatedly realizing he’d run head-on into possible danger without a weapon.

Charles could see Erik running ahead of him, towards the wooded the area they’d trekked on their way here just two days ago, set off on a sprint right behind him. Soon Erik stopped, Charles could see Logan on his knees resting on the muddy ground, both their gazes locked in an upward gaze.

He followed it, and before him, Hank hung with a noose around his neck – still, pale, lifeless.

Charles instantly recoiled at the image, a horrible pain had overcome him, a dreadful sense creeping into him.  _ He could’ve prevented this.  _ Almost as if he’d heard his thoughts, Erik turned to look at him, his gaze locking with his, his pain roaring in equal fervor. Charles couldn’t help but feel that this was the first time he saw the true Erik, exposed and raw in his pain.

Erik quickly schooled his expression, his hand firm on Logan’s shoulder.

“We need to get him down.” Erik tersely said. “Charles, there is a hunting knife in my room near my bed, please bring it.”

Charles rushed back to their quarters, the morning breeze brisk, the sky appeared to grow overcast, a somber chill running deep into him. He’d arrived at Erik’s room, tidy, immaculate, lest the bed. The hasty mess of it brought Charles back to what he had witnessed. Still felt lost as to why Hank had done it.

Clouded by his thoughts, Charles’ irritation began to rise at his inability to find the knife. In his anxious state, he’d finally spot it, below the bed, next to it a standard expedition journal. Charles felt an impression of familiarity at it, pulled it from beneath the bed, turned it to read name written at the front.

Soon, he realized the name across the top was his, horror filing him once again at recognizing the elongated curves of his writing. In his shock, Charles dropped it to the floor as if burned, unable to process the existence of it. Questions wracked his mind, an unnerving sense of dread overcame him, bile rising in his throat as he picked it back up to see the first entry.

June 21, 1992.

The date marked sat at about two years in the past, yet Charles had no recollection of ever being here, of ever writing this very entry. The words stared back at him, almost like a ghost of a someone Charles had once known, a phantom looking at him, looking through him with his eyes.

After the initial adrenaline had worn, he decided to question Erik later, remembered that his duty to Hank came first and tried as best he could to school his features, tamper down the horror that he felt coursing through him, almost like a new life had begun to stir within him.

Resolute, he set off back towards the forest.

\---

The jarring shock of the death did not lessen after they’d brought the body down, worsened when they found a cryptid letter in Hank’s pocket.

“ _ Don’t worry for me. I took care of him. He looked like me, but he wasn’t me. See you back home. _ ”

There was no sense that any of them could discern from it. Hank had never disclosed to any of them any sense of paranoia, he’d been normal all day. Until the night, but even then, spooked as though he was, he seemed fine. Charles felt the sense of regret begin to pile on him, a weight pressing him to the ground, burrowing him, eager to swallow him whole.

Once back at the camp, Logan and Charles sat at their small dining table, had begun packing, both had decided to plan their return to the border. Erik, on the other hand, had vehemently objected. His jaw clenched, his posture stiff, and in clipped tones had simply stated that he had things to finish here and would not leave until they were done.

Charles had felt a broiling contempt begin to overtake him at Erik’s words, wanted to confront him in the heat of the argument, finally decided otherwise. He needed answers, and in that state, Erik would clam up and shut him out.

At noon, they’d reached a cease-fire between them, decided to eat an early lunch together.

Soon after, Erik called Charles to his quarters, asking if he could speak with him in private. Charles bristled but decided this would be his chance to confront Erik. Once in his room, Erik closed the door behind them, went straight for the journal Charles had found earlier.

Erik knew.

Charles felt recoil overcome him once again, the acrid presence of the journal was scathing, the whispers of its past loading him with a muted, primal fear. The phantom life he’d felt before grew and festered, fueled by his irrational fear, began to emit a glow from within him.

Erik’s previously cool expression graduated from shock to grief, to outright horror, a sudden realization washing over him, his features slowly growing sad, a tired old pain breaking through the old scars he’d covered in indifference.

“What’s happening to me!” Charles shrieked in a panic. Erik was instantly at his side, shushing him, begging him to calm down.

“Easy Charles, breathe with me.” They sat on the bed, settling into a matching tandem. Erik’s head rested on top of his, his arms tightly wound around Charles.

At his shriek, Logan pushed in through the door, shock clear as day on his face.

“What the fuck is going on here!” Logan yelled, “he’s fucking glowing!”

At this, Logan snapped. Charles only caught a glimpse of Logan reaching for his sidearm, readying his aim at him when Erik sprang from his seat in one quick, fluid motion. Erik pushed the gun up, towards the ceiling, a shot-firing straight through the roof. Charles dropped behind Erik’s small desk, completely blind to what was occurring when the next shot rang through the room. Overcome with terror, he looked over to see Logan slouched over Erik, a blotch of red running down his gray t-shirt, eyes closed, gone.

Maddening grief rose from within him, the glow growing in intensity at his pain. Charles let out a choked sob at his friend’s lifeless body on the ground. Erik appeared distraught, unable to process what had just occurred. Erik carefully arranged Logan’s body on the floor, pulled Charles to his feet and closed the door behind them as they exited the room. Both profoundly disturbed, they crumbled to the floor in the tight hallway.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t--” Erik broke off, detached, lost in the crash, the adrenaline long gone.

“Erik,” Charles choked out, “what is going on?” A demand, he needed answers.

“Charles, I—” Erik began, “it appears that you are not who I thought you were.”

Charles met Erik’s cryptid reply with stern disapproval, gestured for him to continue.

“Two years ago, my husband Charles entered Area X with the first expedition. It had just been discovered, the dangers not yet known. He never came back, until he did.” Erik turned to look at him, amazed at his presence. “You came to me, I found you sitting in our living room, but you were a shadow of the man I knew. Barely knew my name. Soon your health deteriorated.” At this point he looked distressed, the recollection clearly painful to him.

“In my desperation, I decided to bring you here. See if perhaps you got better. I introduced some new memories, created a narrative to ease your transition and you blossomed.” Erik’s eyes grew watery, tears running down his face, happiness buried within them. “I saw you and I thought you were my second chance,” Erik stifled a quiet sob with a choked chuckle, reached out and carded his fingers through his hair.

“Please,” he whispered, “please be my second chance.”

Charles reached up, brought Erik’s hands between his, quietly stared at them. A biological imperative persuaded Charles to bring Erik close to him, let go of his hands and instead frame Erik’s face with them. Slowly, he leaned up towards him and softly pecked Erik’s lips.

Charles sat back, looked straight into Erik’s eyes, and within them, could begin to see the same glow stare back at him.

**Author's Note:**

> so, recently i have become completely infatuated with sci-fi and michael fassbender. so i have been watching endless videos based on both. i conceived the idea of this fic as a sort of prequel to the movie/first book, there are brief references and i took some liberties for the sake of comprehension. i also did not want to completely bite off from the book and tried to steer clear from overly ambitious biological descriptions (my charles is also a biologist, but not really, therefore the descriptions are detailed yet remain a bit ambiguous in complicated nomenclature). furthermore, fassbender is wonderfully thoughtful, so i tried to get into that headspace while writing this, sort of absorbing the characters and experiencing the story alongside them (although i must say that im disappointed on my side characters, im still a fledgling and developing non-main characters is a pain. MUST PRACTICE!) 
> 
> alright, so the meat of this story lies in the themes from both movie and book. there is an exploration of trauma and how we deal with pain which is what i tried to explore with erik's character in the face of having charles before him once again. there is a great video that goes into more detail, which i'll link right below. i wont bore you all with this or else i'll derail and write another 5000 words just about what went through my head.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URo66iLNEZw
> 
> thank you for making it to the end.


End file.
